Prese

iko Takahashi was still alive-but barely. Her mother sat rigidly on the edge of the bench, hands white-knuckled around a damp tissue that had long since given up the fight. Her father, eyes sunken and unreadab

Not when Akiko was wheeled into surgery with her blood pooling beneath her. Not even when the doctor whispered something that made Yuki, Akiko, and Mika's mother stagg

her mother had asked, voice trembling, "Why was Akiko alone?" Mika had only shrugged and said, "She needed air," like it was obvious. Like that was enough. Now, just a few feet from the machines keeping her sister alive, Mika didn't feel guilt clawing at her chest. She d

oo colorless. A ghost in real time. He remembered her energy, the precision in her movements, the way she never let a single detail slip. Bu

eling happening around them. They stood out not because of what they had done-but because of what they didn't feel. Or couldn't. But just as Hiroshi turned away, a sound

g seemed to have changed. But the silence that followed was heavier. Thicker. Like the air itself was holding its

r voice quieter than

ika-really looked-and for the first time that night, he saw something he couldn't name flicker behind her eyes. Something ancient. And when

s, Akiko's monitors beeped steadily in rhythm with her breath. One nurse remained b

visitors w

e s

ck soon,

world that had no mercy. And the girl in the hospital bed remained silent, her pulse steady, her brain

*

an, Pre

feared to be oppressive, were instead draped in wisteria and crowned by cherry blossoms in early bloom. Gold-tipped towers gleamed beneath the sunlight.

st the polished stones. Six other women stood near the entrance, all clad in formal robes, each more dazzling than the next. Their faces betrayed nothing-though thei

ped forward, smiling wit

sukihara. You are the seve

iven your own residence within the East Wing. Servants have been assigned. Mirrors, libraries, silks- anything you desire, you may as

she glimpsed dripped with beauty, from the gilded edge of the tatami mats to the celadon porcelain at the

pearl. A deep soaking tub steamed in the adjoining chamber. Her maid, a girl named Hana, bowed shyly and offered her freshly ste

d beaten, only guarded. But the whispe

o tried to se

y sa

me of Ts

ing. About the other maidens. About the rules of this glittering, murderous game. They were not locked inside. In fact, they were encouraged to roam the palace gardens, c

overheard two maidens whispering behind a painted f

d o

e's the daughte

her sm

her last fia

d Kiyomi, the fa

The whore o

yomi said nothing and walked on, heart racing. The more they underestimated her,

Lady Rika, daughter of the Chancellor; Lady Ayane, the rumored killer; and the rest. All smiles

n-viewing, a courtier

Maiden

e laughed- e

happ

y, "The King never chooses a bride. He chooses who dies last." The laughter dimmed. Someone played a note too sharply on th

. The moonlight filtered through her rice-paper screens, silv

u do, Kiyomi

the King wa

s. Win his favor? Perhaps. Uncover the truth? Absolutely. She needed allies. She needed answers. And most of all, she needed to survi

a bride. He choos